


Of Shakespeare & Spider-Man Shenanigans

by spideysmjs



Series: Where the Love Light Gleams [4]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Actress!MJ, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Identity Reveal, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28329330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideysmjs/pseuds/spideysmjs
Summary: Peter rolls his neck, several joints cracking like the bones of an 65-year-old on life alert. “I’m gonna be late for rehearsal.”“Of that play you walked yourself into?”“Yep.”“Because of a girl?”Peter accidentally joins the drama club, adding to the list of responsibilities he has as he tackles high school and being Spider-Man.
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: Where the Love Light Gleams [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055843
Comments: 28
Kudos: 71
Collections: Spideychelle Secret Santa - 2k20





	Of Shakespeare & Spider-Man Shenanigans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sandyk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandyk/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, from your Secret Santa! 
> 
> I hope you had a happy holiday season, and I hope you enjoy this little getting together story between Peter and MJ post-homecoming, a little nudged to the left and a whole lot of fluff. 
> 
> This is inspired by post-Homecoming shenanigans and the extended scene in Far From Home where Peter fights the Manfredi family. 
> 
> Have a wonderful day, and enjoy! <3

Peter’s body crashes against the brick wall of the alley, barely shooting his webs on time as to not be a squashed spider on the ground. He miscalculated the jump off a building, and the harsh wind sent him flying back to the place he started.

He groans, letting himself hang from his webs, swaying to the movement of the gusts of wind. 

The earpiece built into his computer starts ringing, the screen reading _Tony Stark_. He says, “Welcome to Spider-Man’s personal hell of pain and suffering, how may we help you?”

“I’ll take one mission update from the miserable teen I’m speaking to.”

“Tony, I’m fine,” Peter says, his voice lighter than usual—convincing, most definitely. “I’m still scoping a few locations for the Manfredi headquarters. Ran into a couple robbers, webbed them up, and now I’m… fighting the wind, I guess.”

“Any leads on a location?” Tony asks, and Peter can hear tools tinkering in the background and outbursts from Dum-E. Oh, what he could do to just be in a lab instead of battling nature and losing.

“No luck,” Peter says, finally pulling himself to the ground and landing his feet back on the grimey sidewalks of Queens. He checks the time on the top corner of the suit’s screen, eyes widening. “Shit.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, kid. There has not been any major reported crimes, not too time-sensitive and if I run a few–”

“No-it’s not this mission. It’s... _ugh._ "

“Puberty?”

“No, Tony.” Peter rolls his neck, several joints cracking like the bones of an 65-year-old on life alert. “I’m gonna be late for rehearsal.” 

“Of that play you walked yourself into?”

“Yep.”

“Because of a girl?”

Even with zero wind resistance in his suit and temperatures dropping below 7 degrees, Peter’s entire body fills with warmth and a kind of pinch in his chest that he’s never felt before. “No, no, no—because of Ned.”

“That’s okay, too. No judgment here.”

“It’s not—I don’t like Ned,” he says. “He’s in the stage crew in the drama club, and I just hang out there sometimes.”

“And—what’s her name again—Michelle?”

“MJ,” he mutters, before shooting another web and soaring into the sky, trying to make it back to his apartment to change and rush over to Midtown.

“A nickname?” Tony asks, voice jumping in the way Peter knows he’s trying to pry more information, to be in the know—as the kids say these days. 

As if it wasn’t possible, Peter’s cheeks fill with more heat like a fever that he hasn’t had in two years. “I gotta go, Tony.” He hangs up the phone without a response. 

_He’s just joking_ , Peter thinks. It’s a dumb thing that adults to embarrass children, like using words like _lit_ or that one time May shouted “Yeet!” after tossing her burnt chicken tenders in the trash can. A joke. A _bad_ joke because he doesn’t like MJ. He barely knows MJ.

“MJ” only was allowed last week after they read lines together for the first time. 

It’s not like Peter knew Brad Davis, _Mr_. _Heartthrob_ , was going to get the stomach flu a day after, or the fact that the drama teacher would genuinely make Peter the new lead in their winter play. 

Peter’s body starts to ring, a warning traveling through his muscle as he looks in front of him, swinging away from what would have been the _second_ building he ran into tonight. He thanks his spider-sense, but he curses his common sense (or lack thereof) all the way back into his window.

It’s going to be a long night.   
  


He’s no less than thirty minutes late, quite a feat for someone with terrible time management and bruises all over his ribs from the night out. He receives well-deserved glares from Cindy and Betty, and an apologetic frown from Ned; it was the look of someone who wants to believe in him, a look that inspires Peter to actually try to be present in high school. 

Hanging around Ned makes him a better person, someone who’s not hesitant to be friends with his peers due to fear of his other life. He’ll need to thank Mrs. Warren for making them lab partners in AP Physics before he graduates.

There’s one person, with a smirk on her face and an eye squint that makes Peter’s heart do loop de loops, nods quietly at him instead of scowling at him like the rest of the drama kids.

 _MJ,_ he smiles at her.

Her gaze doesn’t excuse him for his tardiness because the moment he heads over to the cheap multi-purpose room chairs, her legs propped on the back of an empty seat in front, she rolls her eyes at him. She’s holding a new book in her hands, already halfway through its pages, and it’s not the same one she was reading earlier at lunch—not that Peter pays attention to MJ’s library all that much. He enjoys her takes in English literature, that’s all, and he asks her for her opinions on Shakespeare because that’s what their entire play is about. 

She snaps him away from his own thoughts. “I can’t say I’m surprised, Parker.” 

“Well–” he clears his throat. “I just was taking care of some errands.”

“What errands?” she asks, placing her thumb as a bookmark in between the pages of her novel and resting it on her lap. She shifts her entire body, moving her legs straight to the ground and straightening her posture. 

“Grocery shopping,” he answers too quickly, startling MJ. He finds himself sitting in the chair in front of her, resting his arms on the back and leaning closer to her. If Peter calculates correctly, their faces are just about one foot away from each other; his chest pounding the same way it does when he’s flying with the skyscrapers on his web. 

She gives up quickly, but she holds her gaze at him. “I mean… you didn’t even really sign up for this, so, I get it.”

“Get what?” he asks. 

She waves her free hand around the MPR. “The play. Drama club.” 

He frowns. “Bu–”

“They could have put you in the stage crew and made Ned the lead,” she says. “Ned’s a great actor.” 

There’s a wave of guilt rushing across his entire body, high tides under a silky full moon. “I’m sorry. I–I don’t have to do this.”

“We’ve been practicing already,” MJ says. The truth hurts, but Peter understands the reality of it all—the idea that no one knows who he _really_ is because he cannot let anyone in. “Look, I’m not saying you’re not a good actor. It’s just…” She sighs. “This is important to other people, too.”

If his cheeks are bright red, MJ doesn’t point it out. His voice cracks when he speaks again and says, “I’m going to memorize everything and be ready by opening night, MJ.” He lays his hand on her shoulder, almost unsure if he should keep them there even though it fits so naturally against her skin. His voice softens. “I promise.”

“Thanks,” she mumbles back. 

“Okay, okay!” Mr. Harrington shouts, doing his best to grab everyone’s attention and nearly failing to do so. Peter takes his hand away from her shoulder. 

Their drama instructor walks down the walkway that splits the seats to talk to the both of them. “Peter’s here, yay! Let’s get this show on the road. Peter and Michelle, please run Scene 1 and use the blocking based on the marks that Ned taped up, okay?”

“The block and the what now?” Peter asks. 

Harrington sighs, and Peter can tell that he’s using up all of his energy to refrain from losing patience. 

“Sorry, but I haven’t had much time to practice since last week when you casted me out of nowhere,” Peter says. “I want to help, I do, but everyone else got half a semester, and I have two weeks.”

“I’ll show him where to go, Mr. Harrington,” MJ interjects. Her reassurance gets Peter’s ass out of trouble and adds onto the list of IOU’s of her doing him the same favor. He doesn’t know why she does, but something about the way she looks at him makes him more aware of his surroundings. Peter doesn’t want to mess up around MJ. He wants to impress her, and be a good friend—just like she is with him already.

Harrington relaxes. “Okay, go-go-go, scene-scene-scene.”

Peter is tense on the stage, he feels it. MJ’s acting is...off...too. Not like the night he helped run lines with her on the way home. He still swears he had been dreaming when they’d slow down their steps on the sidewalks, basking in the moonlight. He has relationships with the skyscrapers and he can stop a bus with his bare hands, but something about MJ makes him nervous, like she knows something that he feels—something that he doesn’t even know. 

Maybe he just doesn’t want to accept it. Not yet. High school’s a personal hell of unidentified emotions, and based on the gray morality of his actions, Peter’s one hell of a sinner. 

He sighs, breath hitching, and witnessing MJ stiffen for a beat. He catches it, wondering leaking in his limbs, curiosity in the _what if’s_ of it all. 

She starts the scene, portraying Beatrice with ease. How is Peter supposed to match her energy? He’s mesmerized. He can’t even get a line out, but he has to. He promised. For MJ. Plus, May keeps hinting that someone’s going to surprise him there, and he can’t think of anyone else but Tony, which stresses him out more than a typical mission. Tony will bring Happy, and the last time Happy picked him up after an Academic Decathlon competition, he started flirting with May. 

“Benedick?” MJ says, eyes narrowing at him like a warning. 

Peter’s startled, but he’s gotten at least the beginning half down. He says, “ _What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?”_

She responds with a tone of teasing hushed beneath her tongue, eyes boring into Peter’s with a smirk on her face that he could never get used to seeing. A beautiful sight. 

He makes it through scene one, and they run it again. Harrington appears to not have a single schedule in line, and Peter notices this after they finish act one having only practiced four scenes three times each. By the time they finish, the secondary characters are knocked out in the chairs. 

Ned mics in from the sound booth in the back terrace. “That’s the formal blocking of the play now. We’ve marked it and during dress rehearsal, Jason and I can test what lighting’s best.” 

“Beatrice, Benedick,” Ned instructs. “Don’t be afraid to get close. From scene one we know they’re already in love. It’s really that simple.”

MJ nods her head to the booth above them, holding the mic to her mouth. “Thanks for the notes, Leeds.” 

“You’re welcome. We aced last year’s final for this in AP Lang, dude. We got it.”

Peter watches MJ turn her mic off. He mimics her, and they walk off the stage together. MJ’s lips twitch upwards when Cindy compliments her capture of Beatrice’s underlying feelings. She stuffs her book in her backpack—which looks about 80 pounds—and slings it over both shoulders. 

They walk out of the theater together, silence between them still teetering on the edge of certainty and fear. She releases a breath, the icy air forming fog in front of her. “I’m surprised you didn’t have to leave early _and_ come late today. It’s a world record.”

Her voice is soft in the cold air, and Peter feels a warm coiling at the pit of his stomach, a mixture of guilt and something more. “I’ll never live it down.”

“Your shirt is inside out.”

“What?”

“I noticed the second you walked in, but you look like you’re kind of having a hard day.” He softens at her explanation, sneaking a glance at her before looking away. He fiddles with his own fingers, too nervous to let them rest by his sides just in case they accidentally brush against hers. 

Peter wouldn’t know _what_ to do if something that risky ever happened. MJ slows down, body nudging in the opposite direction from Peter’s apartment. “This is me.” 

“You sure you don’t want me to walk you?” 

“I’m good. Done this commute since Midtown Intermediate,” she lets out a breath, holding. her own hands with a burst of nervous laughter. “Bye, Parker.”

“Bye, MJ. See you at school tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” she smiles. They pause. Another held gaze. He watches her turn around, analyzing the way her steps are quick and sharp. When he turns around, he skips down the street on the way home. The day had been rough for Peter, he’d faced a battle against New York City’s inexplicable winter winds and roped himself into a winter play with zero acting experience. 

MJ makes it better though. His head is no longer feeling the pressure. He could fly. Not even web, but have real wings and soar through the skies with the little victories he had today. 

Closer to discovering the Manfredi Family’s headquarters, nailing the first four scenes of _Much Ado About Nothing_ and walking home (as far as he can) with MJ for the third time this week. 

He goes to sleep thinking about her, and he isn’t surprised when she appears in his dream, too.

They’re taking a walk—maybe in Central Park? She’s talking about her sketches. The ones of people in crises. He’s laughing, and he grabs her hand, and she lets him.

It’s a simple dream, but sweeter than Peter can ever imagine. 

That’s how new best friends feel about each other, right?

  
  
  


It’s three in the morning when his phone starts wailing its ugly alarm. He barely drifted off at half past one, but Spider-Manning knows no schedule. He groans, hoping May’s super-sonic hearing didn’t catch the ring. He answers the call. “What’s wrong?”

“We found their underground location,” Tony says. “Restaurant in Chinatown. Lucky Dragon. I always knew there was something off about that place.” 

“May and I get the discounted egg rolls there every Tuesday. Now they’re tainted,” Peter says, voice still scratchy from having just woken up. He checks his watch, then his entire brain fast forwards the next 24 hours, his entire schedule flashing before him. He asks, “Will I be back in time to shower before school?” 

The silence on the other end of the line is telling.

He chuckles nervously. “I just-you know, I’ve been coming to AP Chem really smelly and there’s no P.E. anymore, so it’s not like I can use that as an excuse. People will notice.”

“I’m sure everyone in high school smells like a teenager.”

Peter doesn’t smell like a teenager. He smells like near death, Folger’s coffee, and the inability to focus. “Anyway, I have a long day tomorrow. I’m trying to be _a real_ teenager, you remember? It was kind of our understanding after the last Homecoming.”

“Suit up, kid.” Tony’s voice begins to sound muffled. “Meet me at Lucky Dragon.”

The call ends. Peter’s hopping into his suit, still half-asleep, still regretting not going to bed at 10pm when he felt that millisecond of sleepiness instead of ignoring it. As he escapes the window and thwips into the night sky, Peter continues to calculate how early he has to wrap things up with the Manfredi family so he has enough time to shower and get to AP Chem on time.

But halfway into the fight at the restaurant, Peter accepts that his last-minute plan, in fact, won’t work out. He barely misses being hit by a Lazy Susan while simultaneously avoiding the bullets coming from Joseph’s well-equipped bodyguards. It’s rough, but Peter trudges through and through—counting the bruises appearing quickly on the surface of his skin while he continues to fight. 

Eventually and miraculously, Peter makes it out alive, webbing up the bodyguards from the ceiling away from their guns’ reaches. He reports to the authorities which role each family member played in the heist, and he goes on with his day, walking out of the restaurant and into the break of dawn. 

Peter loves this time of day. As citizens begin to wake up, he’s already just about finishing his day as Spider-Man, mentally preparing to be Peter Parker again—to hold in those secrets, to be a wallflower. Except for the winter play. 

He gulps, pondering how very likely it would be for Ned, and even MJ, to find out from how much his heart wants to trust both of them. And just as he thinks about his friend, Ned shoots him a text. 

_My mom made lumpia last night, dude. I’m bringing some for me you and MJ ok?_

Peter smiles. He can’t wait for lunch again. Maybe even rehearsals. It’s the second half of scene one, three days until opening night. He’s playing opposite MJ, and—for as guilty as Peter feels for reveling in a childish victory—he’s pretty elated that he doesn’t have to watch Brad Davis and MJ act like they’re in love anymore. 

_That’s sick, ned. Can’t wait_ _👍_

Of course, Peter misses AP Chem and all 15 minutes of homeroom, even though it’s strange that homeroom is 2nd period and only half of _half of_ an hour. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, Peter’s convinced that nothing in the educational system does anyway. 

His teachers, per usual, give him looks of intense warning even though he knows they won’t do much to reprimand him—not after he’d requested to see the school psychiatrist and subsequently been surprised that lots of kids in Midtown do regularly. He didn’t even know it had been a resource, Peter never wanting to burden anyone with his personal downfalls. 

The acceptance he receives from his teachers, however, don’t bode well with others, Flash giving him shit for being a teacher’s pet. When 3rd period ends, Peter using extra strength to hide the limp in his step, they make a trek to their adjacent lockers. He curses the luck he’d gotten for being placed next to Flash for all four years of Midtown. 

When Peter’s already sitting with chin resting in his head and elbow propped on the lunch table, he blinks rapidly, wondering where the day had even gone. 

What information did he even retain in AP Physics last class? 

He’s munching on Ned’s mom’s lumpia when he realizes he hadn’t had a meal since 7pm last night. His stomach aches from eating too quickly. 

“You good, Peter?” Ned asks, eyebrows raised. “You look like you’re in pain.”

“He looks like he’s in pain every day,” MJ blurts out, eyes quickly darting back to her book. 

_Is it a different book from yesterday?_

Peter hadn’t realized he’d been thinking out loud until MJ answers him. “I average reading three books at the same time.”

“Oh. Why?” he plays off his accidental slip of the mouth.

She shrugs. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to escape to different worlds all at once.” 

He grins at her answer, eyes catching hers, a small hitch of his breath escaping his mouth. He feels Ned’s stare from his left, and he makes a mental note to break down his situation with Ned later. MJ pulls her signature, toothless smile, and Peter wants to ask her for more autographs, not getting enough of the look in her eyes. 

“Yo, MJ, you want a lumpia?” Ned asks, tilting the tupperware to show her the goods. She accepts the offer, and he slides the container down the table. She starts snacking on the food, and the three of them go back to silence. Then, Ned breaks the comfortable white noise with a question that strikes Peter. “So, you gonna be on time for rehearsals today or what?” 

Peter frowns. “Yeah, yeah.” 

The bell rings and they lift themselves up from the tables, but Peter accidentally hits his knee on the bottom of the table because he’s distracted by the streak of purple he finds beneath MJ’s curls. He winces and the table cracks. 

Ned looks at him with curious eyes. MJ spins quickly, and Peter wonders if she saw anything. Peter’s eyebrows wrinkle, a worried look painted on his face. He thinks he saves himself by saying, “Midtown needs an upgrade, don’t you think?”

MJ calls them. “Come on, dorks.” 

  
  
  


Another blink of an eye, and the last bell of the school day rings, waking Peter up from the Pearl Harbor documentary they played in class and how Howard Stark’s weapons became popularized in the military at the same time. Almost the entire class wakes up with crusty eyes, sporting yawns and arm stretches. 

Peter slips out of his desk and makes his way to the doorway. He freezes immediately when he sees MJ right outside the door with arms crossed and leaning against the closest row of lockers.

“Hey,” he greets her. “What’s going on?” 

Her eyes fall to her shoes, her favorite high tops with scratches on the rubber. “I wanted to see if you maybe wanted to get food before-before practice?” 

Holy shit. She’s asking him out? Is he? Or is he being a complete _boy_ about this and assuming way too much out of a simple question? She looks so pretty, the light from the sun seeping through the high windows of the hallway and making her glow. 

“Or, we don’t have to, I guess–” she drops her arms to her sides, balancing herself on the heels of her feet. 

“No! I mean–yes–sorry. I just,” he says, hand smoothing over the back of his neck. “You look really pretty.”

Her face softens. It’s a look Peter has never seen before, a look that makes him wonder if anyone has. “Thanks.”

He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans. “You–me? Food? Is Ned comin–”

“Ned has robotics,” she says abruptly. “Let’s go.”

The short walk from school to the Bagel Café feels different from any other time he’s been alone with MJ. He’s more paranoid, but it could be from the lack of sleep after rushing back home from being thoroughly beaten up by Joseph Manfredi himself. 

They got away, but while Peter put himself up as bait, fighting and distracting them at the restaurant, Tony was stealing information from their servers. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if their next planned heist was soon, which explains his jittery voice when MJ finally starts talking about _Much Ado About Nothing._ There’s passion in her voice, but Peter can’t help but fixate on worry. He’s hyperaware, senses firing off a warning sign like something might happen, but he can’t lay his finger on it. 

Peter only loosens up to order a bagel, but as they sit on the patio of the café and wait, the feelings creep back at him quickly. 

If his paranoia is overt, MJ notices because she asks, “Are you good?” 

The question has become common nature between them. He says, “Yup. Just tired. Can’t wait for the bagel.”

She squints at him. “Okay.”

“But you were saying that you’re unsure of Flash’s portrayal of Leonato?”

“Yeah, he’s not noble at all,” MJ quips. Peter snorts. She makes fun of him for the sound endlessly and even adds a fries toss that lands directly in his mouth. “Nice reflexes.”

He shrugs. “Psh, I go to the gym you know.”

“Sure,” she says. She picks at the sourdough crust she ripped from her grilled cheese sandwich. She licks her lips. Peter swallows, nervous and shaking. “I just want everything to go well.” A beat. “You know I want to apply to Julliard?” 

“What?” Peter asks with excitement in his tone. “You’d do great, MJ. You’re a wonderful actress.” 

“I’m just _so_ nervous. This is my first big role. The past two years, I’ve just played extra or backup vocals. I don’t know. I don’t want to mess up.” 

Peter straightens his back and grabs her hands, a sudden confidence to intertwine their fingers together. He’s surprised at himself, and even more surprised that MJ doesn’t flinch, but actually melts into his touch. “You’re an amazing actress, _Michelle_.” 

And for the first time, MJ flashes her teeth in a wide, never-before-seen grin. 

He’s positive he’s at the gates of heaven as he looks at her, taking her features all in. Her smile falling slightly with a tooth still peeking out. The small freckles in her skin you can only see when it’s bright out. The way his name comes out of her mouth in a mundane, every day kind of breath, yet his heart jumps out of his chest every time. 

“Thanks, _Peter_.” 

_Peter._

He can’t get enough of how that sounds. 

She slips her fingers out of his. “You know, being on stage with you makes me less nervous.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” she says. “I felt it when we read lines.”

“Funny how that worked out,” Peter says. 

“Yeah,” she smiles. “Thanks for trying.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean… I know you have… a _lot_ going on,” she mutters, eyes shifting away from the hold they kept, “so I appreciate that you’re trying your best to make things work out for me.” 

He’s speechless, stomach bubbling so much, but he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s coming to a Big Realization about MJ, or if he drank too much whole milk from the milkshake he ordered. 

“I won’t let you down, MJ.” 

Their lunch ends, they pay for their respective meals, and they stroll back to the school. Peter’s anxiety has disappeared in a slow gradient, but he knows his spider-senses are on a high dial right now from his early morning.

MJ becomes a distraction to the paranoid feelings, a very good distraction because his worries about violent crime turn into normal, hormonal teenager worries about the girl he’s beginning to want to be _more_ than friends with. 

When nothing goes wrong throughout the duration of practice and the cast breezes through act one, Peter allows himself to loosen up. He can do this. His acting has gotten better—he even got a genuine compliment from Betty and a look of genuine surprise from Harrington. He’s making them proud. 

Plus, Ned throws thumbs up from the sound booth and has already been testing out the best colors of lighting to not wash out Peter’s pale skin. 

Today’s been a good day. 

It gets even better when MJ holds his hand all the way to the end of the street where they finally split paths. 

She says bye quickly and rushes away. 

Peter watches her for a moment. She even looks back, eyes soften, and smiles. He can hear her pulse heighten. He feels his increase right after. 

Everything’s okay. There’s no trouble. 

As rehearsal nights for act two zoom by, Peter’s caution slowly dissipates just like the bruises along his spine do after a bad beat. 

Manfredi has been too high key anyway, and now they’re laying low. They can lay low until after their winter play is over, and they start their two week break. They’d be doing Spider-Man _and_ Peter Parker a huge favor. 

But, of course, with his Parker luck and a steady relationship bad timing, Peter gets a harsh slap in the face reminder that an easy life is never the case with him.

  
  
  


Saturday night. Opening night. 

It’s still the morning, but the entire drama club’s call time is 8AM to run through the play at least one more time before the official performance. Harrington’s off the walls. Betty’s stress biting her nails. Ned’s voice is high-pitched and customer-service like, reassuring every cast and crew member that everything’s all good and ready to go. 

Peter feels a new kind of chaos that he’s into. It’s nice to have been around Ned and MJ this semester because this is a new hobby he wouldn’t mind trying again—even if he has to face Brad Davis when he gets better from his stomach flu. 

He takes a hard look at his surroundings as he sips his Folger’s brew. Costumes are hanging, prepared for Beatrice and Benedick’s quick changes. Ned’s exquisite R&B playlist is banging through the speakers. Betty is braiding Cindy’s hair. 

This is the most normal he’s felt in three years.

Then, his phone rings.

Peter groans. Of course it’s today, of all the days these villains could have picked. It could have been a rehearsal night, or it could have been _after,_ but it’s Saturday—bright and early right after Peter’s hearty breakfast of sausage and pancakes doused in syrup—when they decide to dampen his day.

“Hey man,” he answers in a whisper, lifting himself out of the chair, getting eyes to follow him as he walks into a far corner. “Today’s my opening night.”

He’s sure Tony can hear him frowning. “Sorry, kid. We still have the whole day.”

“I’m supposed to be back here at 3pm before doors open. We haven’t even ran our last rehearsal yet or practiced bows.”

He knows he’s being selfish for complaining. He has already accepted his responsibility. He’s too self-aware to even deny that he's legitimately trying to get out of the mission. 

Peter likes to complain sometimes, okay?

“I was working on something that’ll help make this smoother. Happy’s already outside the parking lot. We’ll need to rendezvous somewhere before we stake out.”

“What is it?” Peter asks.

“A new suit.” Tony hangs up the phone. 

Peter is awestruck, but he takes zero time to make his way to Ned in the sound booth. “Hey.” 

Ned reads him immediately. “You gotta go?”

“How’d you–”

“Peter, I hope you know I’m not stupid. If you have a fight club, I get it. You’re not supposed to talk about it. That’s fine.”

“It’s not a fight club–”

“Okay, then what’s up?” Ned spins his chair to face Peter, arms crossed. He has a stern look on his face that means no bullshit whatsoever. It scares Peter, but at the same time, reaffirms that he’s found a stable friendship with Ned. 

Ned’s honest with him. Ned shares his mom’s cooking because Peter mentioned that he tells May he can pack lunch for himself so she doesn’t have to wake up earlier before a double shift at work, but sometimes Peter forgets to bring food. 

Peter can’t help but be truthful to Ned. 

It’s almost like word vomit except Ned starts the conversation by saying, “It’s either a fight club or you’re Spider-Man.”

“I am.”

Ned blinks. “What.”

“I am Spider-Man.”

“ _Dude_.” Ned jumps out from his chair and it swivels against the wall of the booth. 

“Ned,” Peter begs. “Ned.”

“Dude.” He paces back and forth, then in rapid circles until he gets dizzy and presses his hand against the wall for balance.

“You’re not gonna tell anyone right?”

“Peter, this is _huge._ ”

“I know, I know but–”

“You’re not fucking with me are you?” Ned asks. 

“No! Ned, why would I lie to you? We’re best friends.”

Ned grins. “We are.”

“Yeah,” Peter says. Then he begins to pace himself, the same path Ned walked around just minutes ago. “Can you–can you come up with a plan to back me up? Like say my aunt needed me for an emergency at my apartment. I’ll be back though.”

Ned frowns. “Are you really?” 

The look on his face makes Peter’s chest feel tight. “I’m… I’m going to try really hard, Ned.” 

“But MJ…” Ned mumbles. 

“I know,” Peter looks down. “I’m not gonna let her down, okay? It’s–it’s still early morning. Tony has an upgrade for me. I’ll make it back.”

“Tony St–”

“Yes! Ned, hush.” Peter stops him from shouting. His phone rings again. “Look, I really gotta go. Can you–”

“Tell Harrington. Got it. Don’t worry. I’ll help you. Text me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

They shake on it, and Ned calls out as Peter walks out the door of the sound booth, “You know we really gotta make a handshake!”

“When I get back, Ned!” Peter calls out. 

  
  
  


“Woah.” Peter watches in awe as his entire body becomes covered in nano-particles. He stands still, waiting for his suit to turn on. “Like really, woah.”

“Yep,” Tony says, leaning casually on his work desk. “Just like Mark 50. Bulletproof.”

“This is _sick_!”

“Yeah,” Tony rolls his eyes. “Anyway, our backup is staked out by the overpass next to their headquarters. We have to meet them there and then try to stop Manfredi from robbing the next big bank.”

“We got this,” Peter huffs. “We definitely got this.”

  
  
  


In the middle of their battle, Peter feels the highest level of confidence with this new suit, throwing out insults to distract his enemies while also not missing a beat with his web strikes and its different options powered by the suit. It’s almost too powerful. Almost like he doesn’t want to use this for just any reason. 

_Maybe when there’s another alien invasion in New York or something_ , he jokes.

Tony zooms past the restaurant and down to the vault that hides their main headquarters while Peter keeps the bodyguards tired and distracted. It’s easy. Nearly tedious, even, as the only thing that occupies Peter’s mind is ensuring that his muscle memory from fighting is kicking in while he thinks about whether or not he’ll make it back on time for _Much Ado._

The fights are easy—almost _too_ easy—and of course, Peter speaks his bad luck into existence when his suit starts sparking on his foot. He radios in to Tony and says, “Did you test the kinks of this suit out?”

“We kind of didn’t have time. What’s wrong?”

“Well my foot might explode,” he panics, but he ends up webbing the last bodyguard up against the wall.

Tony sighs. “Uh–there’s a reset feature. The Oops Protocol.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay.” Peter listens to Tony’s instructions and follows them carefully. Soon after, his foot is no longer sparking, but the pain is strong and _burning._

Peter talks to himself. “Not too bad. This is fine. I’ll heal.” He starts stepping, and even in his suit he feels the burn of movements. “Shit.”

“Kid, I stopped Joseph. I got him,” Tony celebrates with a pep in his voice. “I can wait for the feds to get here. You go to your play.”

“Really?” Peter looks at the time on the screen of his suit. _2:45pm._ They’ve probably made their way halfway through the rest of Act II now. 

A tragedy for him, despite the play being one of Shakespeare’s comedies.

He can’t even begin to think about how much he’s let MJ down. There’s guilt that starts at the bottom of his gut and moves up to his throat. He almost refuses to show his face, but Peter knows that’ll only make their relationship worse—if he doesn’t show up to the _actual_ play. 

Peter likes holding MJ’s hands. He wants to do more than that. He plans to be in MJ’s life a lot more now, if she’ll let him, and even if he’s missed the last rehearsals, he just needs to make it in time for Act I, Scene I. He groans as his burnt foot continues to scrape against the suit, walking out of the double doors of _Lucky Dragon._

Then, at the last minute, his senses spike. He turns around, but his lack of awareness gets the best of him. Peter finds himself slammed on the floor, most likely with multiple concussions. There are stars circling his brain in the sky like he’s a cartoon. Everything’s fuzzy. 

His assailant has disappeared. Then, a prolonged darkness. 

He blinks his eyes open, and Tony’s helping him up. 

“How long was I out?” Peter panics. 

“Half an hour.”

It’s 3pm!? The play starts in an hour,” he shouts, trying to lift him up but the pain in his ribs from falling makes him stop. 

“You sure you can do a play tonight? There’s a hospital bed and prescriptions from Dr. Cho in your name if you call it.” 

“I have to,” Peter says. “It's fine. I can heal.”

“In an hour?”

“I’ll have to tolerate it,” he says, and he’s back on his feet after a trying battle with his limbs. “I have to do it.” For MJ _._

  
  
  


Peter didn’t have time to shower.

He grabbed the nearest shirt and jeans from his hamper on the way to Midtown. 

This is not his best attempt at being prompt, but his foot is still in serious pain and his ribs are sore as he runs down a few blocks to make it to school. 

Thirty minutes pass. Halfway through, he did regret not swinging to get there in half the time, but Peter has zero brains—no thoughts head empty. All this anxiety forces him to rush as fast as he can without even considering efficiency, much like how his life goes every day. 

Breathless, he finally opens the doors to the theater. Mom and dads, brothers and sisters, and distant relatives are already slowly filtering in when he gets there. None of his castmates are lingering in the main lobby or the seats, Peter assuming they’ve made their way backstage for the pre-opening night ritual that MJ talked to Peter about at lunch a few days ago.

They’re all probably pissed and panicking. 

Peter, the idiot he is, only checks his phone now. 

**Ned [3:04pm]**

_Idk if I can stall any longer, dude, they’re all panicking._

_I said you’d make it back at least before the show starts_

_MJ’s so pissed that she’s calm it’s unreal_

_Stay safe though_

Peter makes his way around the auditorium to the backstage entrance. He comes up just in time for the cast and crew huddle. All eyes fall on him, sharp and upset. Even Harrington is sporting a new, disappointed frown Peter’s never seen before. 

“Parker, of course you have the audacity to show up _last minute_ ,” Flash scoffs. “Why should we let this loser in the play anyway?”

“He’s the understudy,” Harrington says. “He’s already in for someone who didn’t make it to the play.”

Cindy, under her breath—for only Peter’s superpowers to pick up—says, “Someone who was bad anyway.”

A part of him celebrates in silence for receiving Cindy’s seal of acting approval, but the gaping looks of frustration from all his castmates keep him grounded. 

“Listen, I know I fucked up a couple of times but–”

“A couple?” Flash throws his hands in the air. “You guys can’t seriously think this is okay.”

“It was an emergency,” Ned speaks up, defending Peter. “And at least he’s here now. And he’s been practicing.” 

Flash groans. “But he’s not a team–”

“So, you think that if you were going through a family emergency that we’d easily just give you shit for it?” MJ interrupts their discussion, all eyes shifting to her. Peter hasn’t even taken the chance to look at her. She has makeup that Peter assumes Betty did for her. The sparkly eyeliner winged away from the corner of her eyes makes her look even sharper—more concise. 

Peter’s enchanted, surprised that her signature glare isn’t calling him out, but defending him even when he knows that he doesn’t deserve it. 

He almost forgets the burning sensation vibrating through his leg when he melts at her beauty, but as they finish their huddle and make their way to their respective entrances, he limps all the way to stage right. 

Ned lingers behind with Peter. “Now I know why you're always in pain.”

Peter shrugs. “It’s fine, all good. I can… I can heal pretty quick.”

“Like two hours quick?” Ned eyes the limping leg. 

“No,” Peter winces, stopping as the wind picks up in the air. The damn wind back again, trying to take revenge on Peter for not dying the last time they danced in the evening. He shivers, wondering what the temperature is before his body heats up the moment they enter the muggy dressing room. 

“Are you even going to be able to change into your costume?”

“I’ll be–fuck, ouch–I’ll be good. I just need to change in the bathroom or something. Say I’m too uncomfortable to change in front of people.” 

“That’s valid,” Ned reassures. “I’m going to head to the sound booth, but… are you sure you’re okay?” 

Peter looks into Ned’s eyes and smiles. “I’ll be okay, Ned. I promise. Maybe check in with me after I apologize to MJ during intermission. I bet she wants to kill me even though I’ve broken literally every promise I’ve made.” 

“Okay,” Ned smiles. “Okay, Peter. Break a leg.” 

“Now that’s a little too much,” he quips. Ned chuckles and walks off, stage crew ready. 

  
  
  


The show begins. 

His heart is beating fast, the pressure is on. The studio light gleams above him, only making him sweat more. He didn’t have time to ask Betty to put makeup on his face so he doesn’t look too washed out. All he’ll do is present himself as nervous. He’s shaking, and a lot of it comes from bad nerves. 

He’s never been in front of a large crowd before, not as Peter Parker. 

But he’s Benedick, MJ’s his Beatrice, and once she walks onto center stage as he peeks from the side, his heart is calm and racing all at once—a new challenge to face that he’s never faced before. A challenge of having a crush, falling for someone, and wanting so badly to do the best he can to make her happy. 

He delivers his lines with enunciation, and he knows May’s cheering him on from the front row, so he calms down. 

Peter calms down even more when he watches MJ in her element, hands flailing with emphasis in the air, hair curled perfectly, long enough to touch the small of her back. She usually has her hair bunned up on the top of her head, a messy look. Both are beautiful, but this is new. 

He wants to kiss her so badly, he wants to edit the script so that their lips can press against each other as their characters move from snarky banter to romantic glances. 

The chemistry is unreal, and Peter thinks it’s more than just MJ’s top tier acting. 

Time flies, the duration of the show dwindling down—Peter not even having enough time to catch MJ at intermission because she searches the lobby for her family and carries her little sister in her arms as her mom and dad applaud her talent. 

It warms his heart witnessing her life outside of school. 

May rushes to him, hugging him from the back and squealing with pride. She kisses his cheek and Peter shies away. “May, stop! I’m embarrassed.”

“Pete, you’re so good! Honey, I didn’t know you could act like that,” she fluffs up his hair even though it’s gelled in for his character’s look. 

“Thanks, May,” he says, half-distracted by still watching MJ, soft and smiling, around her family. She catches him watching, and he doesn’t look away. Instead, he nods his head at her—the same way that she does with him when he walks into a room—and she rolls her eyes, a playful thing. 

“Ohhh,” May says, teasing. “I see. I see. Go ahead, Pete. I’ll see you after the show for Thai with Ned and his family.” 

“Okay,” Peter smiles. “Maybe we can ask MJ, too?” 

“Yeah, maybe.” May winks, walking away. “I’m gonna find Happy.”

“Happy’s here?” Peter asks. 

“Yeah,” May says. “He is.” 

Peter blinks, then shakes his head, walking toward MJ and her family. 

“Hi,” he says, hands running through his hair. May had messed it up already, so it’s not like there’s an easy fix ten minutes before Act II. MJ waves her family off after a quick introduction, but her demeanor shifts back into her quiet, tense self.

“Hey.”

He can understand why she’s nervous. It’s the same reason he’s always quiet around her. He knows MJ likes him, and he likes her.

With all of her stolen glances that he catches, he’s convinced that they’re both on the same page. There’s no better time to tell her in the middle of the play where they’re supposed to be lovers. The _love_ is already there.

It’s time to tell her because when he does, his shoulders will feel lighter. He’ll feel like he’s flying because he’s more than 67% sure that she feels the same way. 

“MJ, listen… I’m–”

MJ checks their surroundings. “Am Spider-Man.”

“What?”

“That’s what you were going to say. That you’re Spider-Man.”

“I don’t-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter feigns aloofness. “I’m not Spider-Man.” 

“Sure,” she says, eyes narrowing into his. 

“What would make you think I’m Spider-Man?”

“Peter, Washington?” MJ shakes her head like it’s supposed to be obvious, and he’s genuinely surprised she’s the only one who found out. “Ned and I talk about this all the time.” 

“You _do?_ ” Peter asks.

“Yeah. Wait 'til he finds out.”

“I’m not Spider-Man.”

“So you’re just late to everything because you’re an awful person and you used Aunt May as a lie to get away with missing the most important rehearsal ever?”

Peter swallows. “Okay, I know it looks bad, but…”

“Peter, you’ve been limping this entire day after coming back. You keep grabbing your ribs like you’re in pain. If you weren’t going to tell me you were Spider-Man, then what were you going to tell me?” 

Silence. 

Families have left the candy stands and the foyer of the auditorium. 

The cast has been called to their respective entrances several minutes ago.

They’re the only two people left outside. 

Peter can’t find the words to explain himself. MJ rolls her eyes—not jokingly this time. 

“Peter! MJ!” Ned calls out. He’d been at the sound booth already. “Harrington told me to get you two. Is everything okay?” 

“We’re fine!” they both say, looking at him then flitting their eyes back to each other. 

“Fine,” MJ repeats before heading off inside again without saying another word. 

Peter: -10000000. 

Everything else wrong in the world: A glorious win.

  
  
  


The play finishes.

MJ’s outstanding despite their conversation. She carries the chemistry and helps him remember his lines when he freezes up, mind still wandering to their conversation outside. 

He’s worried. He needs to tell the truth, but he’s certain MJ doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore, much less be a friend. 

Peter has ruined it. He ruined their friendship as well as the ones he’s made with the drama club by committing to his Spider-Man duties. 

The past week has been hard proof that balancing life as a teenager who moonlights as a Spider- _Man_ is impossible if he surrounds himself with more people. 

Maybe it’s better to be a loner, like how he was before he got closer with Ned in AP Physics this semester. 

Maybe it was a mistake to tell Ned even though both he _and_ MJ had those suspicions about Peter being Spider-Man. 

Maybe Peter’s made of glass despite having super strength. 

Maybe it’s over now. 

Yet, when they lock hands at the end of their bows, he still feels a spark when he feels her skin against his palm. He swears she squeezes his hand as they lift their arms in the air, bowing. 

The audience roars. 

He pushes MJ front and center under the brightest spotlight. 

A standing ovation. 

He sees a single tear streak down her face, one of happiness, he hopes. 

At least he made it to the real play. 

At least that part of the promise he kept. 

For MJ. 

In the lobby, May hands him a bouquet of flowers. He’s cheerful, excited, and jumping up and down with Ned for a good opening night. 

May asks, "Are you going to invite MJ to dinner?” 

Peter’s excitement is crammed for a moment. “Oh, yeah. I don’t think… I think I messed things up–”

“Hey, Parker.” He turns around. MJ’s dressed in a simple dress and puffy jacket despite the sky looking grey underneath the full moon. “Can we talk?” 

“Yes, please,” he answers almost immediately, walking away from May and Ned as they start talking about their favorite orders from the Thai place. 

They find an emptier spot, the noise of the crowd fades away. 

Peter starts the conversation. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she says. “Listen I–”

“MJ, I’m so–”

They laugh. It’s awkward, but Peter’s brain feels fuzzy. “I am Spider-Man.”

“I knew it.”

“And I’m sorry.”

MJ’s face falls. “Right.”

“And I… I really like you.”

She grins. “I really like you, too.”

“Yeah?” he lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

“Yeah,” she admits. “I’m glad you’re back alive. I’m always glad you’re back alive.”

His heart flutters. “How long have you known?”

“For a while.”

“That explains why you’re never mad at me.”

“I am,” she says. “Trust me, I am. But you being Spider-Man...that’s an entire situation that's bigger than myself.” 

“MJ,” he softens. 

“I kept your secret because that’s what I do,” she says. “I’ll keep all of your secrets, Peter.”

He runs his hands through his hair one more time. Then, using his other hand pulls back MJ’s hair behind her ear. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” 

“I’m so glad you finally asked,” she says, leaning forward without giving Peter time to prepare, a soft kiss landing against his lips. 

“You kissed me.”

“I did,” she says, leaning forward again with her arms wrapping around his neck this time, pulling him closer. His tongue slips into her mouth, and the feeling is fresh, different, and nothing like Peter’s ever felt before when it comes to kissing. 

He finally lets go, but his arms are still around her waist. 

When he looks into her eyes, like all the times before, all troubles in the below zero temperatures of New York City most violent crime zones seem to melt away. 

He’d put so much worry into a situation that had a simple fix. 

A simple confession of love. 

An outstanding kiss that sends him flying higher than he would with his web-shooters. 

No amount of evil-doers or battles with Mother Nature can ruin this moment for Peter because from now on, he knows he’ll do his best to make sure he can be the best student, hero, and _boyfriend._

He’ll be better for himself. 

_For MJ._

**Author's Note:**

>  _From[promptmas](https://spiderman-homecomeme.tumblr.com/post/633603846711721985/twelve-days-of-promptmas)_:
> 
> 48\. Identity Reveal


End file.
